Flight World War 2
by Candie1981
Summary: What happens when a WW2 soldier is injured in battle and left to die but is saved by an angel?
1. Chapter 1

**Flight World War II**

Lieutenant Nigel Sheffield – Robbie Kay

Emily Murphy – Gatlin Green

Wardaddy – Brad Pitt

Boyd 'Bible' Swan – Shia LeBeouf

Norman Ellison – Logan Lerman

Grady Travis – Jon Bernthal

Gordo Garcia – Michael Pena

 **Chapter 1**

It was the height of World War 2 and the German forces had taken the northern region of France. Lieutenant Nigel Sheffield was a 20 year old radio engineer for the Royal British Air Forces Bravo Company.

Nigel and his regimen where stationed just north of Vichy outside of a small village. He had just started his shift in the radio communications center when he received a transmission alerting them of an airborne assault that was heading their way. He threw off his headset and burst through the door.

"Sergeant! Sergeant!" He shouted to his commanding officer, but before he could relay the message he heard the roar of planes overhead right before the ground around him was peppered with bullets. He ran for safety, but landed face first in the mud, a terrible pain raced up and down his right leg. Crying out in pain, he dragged himself towards the treeline, through the mud, blood and over dead and dying comrades!

Once he was under the cover of the trees and out of the range of fire, he examined his leg, a bullet ripped through his thigh. He tore his belt from his waist and wrapped it tightly above the wound, slowing blood flow. He had no pain killers so he grit his teeth and settled against a tree to wait out the attack.

It seemed like hours had passed since he'd crawled into the underbrush, but he waited, he wasn't going to chance a troop of German soldiers coming into camp and finishing off what the planes didn't.

As the time passed, the edges of his vision became blurrier and blurrier, he was fatigued, in the worst pain of his entire life and was losing far too much blood. He must have finally passed out because when he opened his eyes again, it was dark and quiet. His hand went out in search of something, anything and when he closed his fist it was around the edge of a thick soft quilt. 'Wait, what!?' His mind almost screamed at him. "I must be dreaming!" He mumbled to himself trying to sit up, only to fall back to the soft mattress with a loud moan as pain shot up his leg. That's when it hit him, the air attack, that's it, he wasn't dreaming, he was dead!

Suddenly he heard the shuffle of feet before the small light of a lamp lit up the room he was in. "Ah, I see sleepin' beauty finally awakens!" A female Irish voice replied from the darkness behind the lamp.

"How are you? Where am I?" He asked, voice still groggy from sleep as he tried once more to sit up in the bed, only to fail miserably again.

"My name is Emily, and your safe here!" She replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Emily Murphy had moved from Dublin, Ireland with her family when she was ten years old. Her father was a farmer and times where getting rough so he decided to pull up their roots and try their luck in France.

They sold everything they owned with the exception of a few heirlooms and clothing and with their earnings, they bought a small farm just outside of Vichy, France. The little farm thrived until the war began, now the once plush and fertile land where littered with mortar and rifle shells and other military debris.

Her father had been unwillingly drafted into the army a year into the war, leaving her and her mother alone to take care of the farm. A few months later, her mother was visiting the town of Burgundy, trying to sell some of their crop when she was killed during an air raid, leaving the then 18 year old Emily to fend for herself.

He father had taught her how to use and take care of a gun since she was old enough to hold one. Not having a son, he bestowed his knowledge to his daughter, 'You never know when you will need to use one!' He'd told her. She could protect herself from one attacker, but a whole group of blood thirsty Germans?

As the German troops moved across France, Emily's home had been looked over, thankfully! She dreaded the thought of having to deal with them. But she did have a few run ins with American and British soldiers looking for food, water and shelter for a few hours before they moved on. They were allies, not blood thirsty monsters, dealing with them was much more pleasant than even the thought of the Nazi invaders.

One afternoon she was out collecting firewood when she came across a horrific sight, the remains of a military encampment littered with bullet holes, shells and bodies where everywhere. She was terrified and wanted to run away from the scene, but her gut told her she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't at least check to see if there were any survivors. She may have been a girl, but she was going to help her country if she could.

Emily tiptoed around the bodies, some of them where obviously dead, the scavenger animals had already had their share of most, but some looked as if they would speak at any second only the cold stare of death in their eyes told her it was too late for them. Finally giving up, there were no survivors, she turned back to her wheelbarrow when she heard a low moan coming from the bushes.

"Hello?" She called, her voice cracked with anxiety as she cautiously made her way towards the sound. She peered through the leaves spying a young man perched against a tree unconscious. He had light brown hair but that was all she could tell through the mud and blood that caked his entire body. Maybe once all the mess was cleaned off of him, he could be a handsome lad.

She recognized his uniform, even through the mess, he was a British soldier and he needed medical help. She dashed back to her wheelbarrow of firewood, quickly emptied it and wheeled it back to the soldier. She took a second to figure out exactly she was going to get him into it. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled, almost falling backwards into the makeshift stretcher. This earned her a groan from him. She was going to help him, at least until he was well enough to find his way back to his regiment.

"It's alright, you'll be fine!" She replied, more to assure herself then him, if he could even hear her. After another small struggle, she managed to get him settled, she found herself uttering apologies with every sound of protest he made.

The trip home was slow, he might be small in frame, but pushing his weight through the mud wasn't easy! It was well after dark before she stepped through the gates of her garden and she was both mentally and physically drained from the day's events. When she reached the front step she took a rest and tried to figure out a way of getting him inside of the house. 'This boy might be more trouble than he's worth!' She thought, sighing.

The house was a one story bungalow set on ten acres of land. It consisted of a large porch which doubled as a storage area for fire wood that opened into the kitchen and dining area. Off to the left was a hallway that led to the two bedrooms and washroom at the back of the house and to the right was the living room. It may have been a bit smaller than their house back in Dublin, but it was just enough for her mother, father and her.

After she had rested for a few minutes, she stood, squared her shoulders and set her feet before hoisting him up onto her back. It would have been comical to anyone what might have been watching, not so much for Emily. She had almost dropped him twice and bumped his leg into the doorframe before finally making it into the bedroom where she unceremoniously dropped him onto the bed, earning a grunt from the still unconscious soldier.

Fixing him properly on the bed she removed his mud caked boots and put them in the porch to be cleaned later. Upon returning to the room, she carefully removed his coat and tossed it into the laundry basket. Pausing for a moment, she made a mental list of things that she would need to help him before heading towards the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Going back to the kitchen, Emily found the biggest pot she owned and filled it with water and placed it on the stove before grabbing a cloth, soap, antiseptic ointment and bandages from the bathroom.

Going back to the bedroom, she deposited the things on the dresser before going through the drawers to find something for him to wear once he was cleaned up. Satisfied with her finds, she headed back to the kitchen to retrieve the now boiling water.

'This is going to be so awkward!' She thought before getting to work. She removed his shirt and tie tossing it into the laundry basket before she washed his face, revealing very handsome features, she dabbed some ointment on some of the small scratches on his face before getting another bowl of clean water. She finished with his upper body before getting yet another bowl of water.

"My God, did you leave any dirt on the ground back there?" She mused to herself.

Now the difficult part came, getting his pants off and cleaning his wounds. Carefully she removed the belt from his upper thigh, causing a slow flow of blood to ooze from the wound before tugging them down and tossing them into the laundry as well. She quickly cleaned him up and started to treat the wound, it was already starting to get infected, she could see that it was read and puffy around the edges and had some yellowish puss around it. With yet another clean bowl of water she rinsed the wound on both sides, as the bullet had went straight through, thank God she didn't have to try to fish the bullet out of him! Her proding and poking earned a few moans from him, but he didn't wake up. When she was happy with her work, she grabbed a needle and thread from the bedside table and closed the wounds before applying some ointment and gauze. Carefully, she redressed him in one of her father's old pajama sets and pulled the blankets up over him.

Grabbing the now full laundry basket before exiting the room, leaving the door ajar incase he woke up. She filled the old ringer washer's tub with water and soap before sifting through the pockets of the soldiers clothes for any personal items he might have sashed. She recovered a letter that looked well read, creases folded and unfolded numerous times, the white paper stained with specks of blood, another bunch of papers well read, she had no idea what all of the letters and numbers meant, a photo of him and another young man with light colored hair both wearing chestschire grins, on the back it said, Nigel and Felix Summer 1937. She pulled a few bullets out of his coat pocket, but she found no gun on him. His dog tags, she remembered where placed on the bed side table during his washdown.

'Well, I guess finding out your name will have to wait.' She thought, other then the picture, there where no other personal items to identify him, there was the letter,but she was not going to read his personal mail. She placed all she found in a bowl on the table before throwing the clothes into the washer. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her fingers where raw, but some of the stains would not come out. She did her best, then hung them to dry by the woodstove in the kitchen.

Before she headed to bed, she checked on the soldier. She glanced at the silver chain laying on the bedside table, she held it close to the lantern and read:

Sheffield, Nigel A

15231255 T42 43 B

222 Farrington Street

London, England

She smiled a little, at least now she had a name to call him by, even though he was still out cold. She put the chain back on the table next to a glass of water and some pain killers in case he woke up throughout the night. Then she retired to her room across the hall.

She was exhausted but her mind would not let her sleep. Several times throughout the night she crept across the hall, lantern in hand to check on Nigel, but of course nothing had changed. She finally grabbed a book off of her shelf and read until her eyes finally fell shut.


End file.
